Wednesday, November 25, 2015

Feel the Pain

Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

There is a war going on. Jews are getting killed. Stabbed.
Murdered. Shot. Day after day, the numbers are adding up. Sometimes, they are
killed one at a time, other times in groups. Knifed, sprayed with bullets or
rammed with a car. And that is very tragic. Sad. Awful. There is a growing
trail of blood, leaving their families and communities devastated.

It’s heartbreaking. But do you know what is also sad? That many
don’t seem to care. People were davening Minchah in Tel Aviv and an Arab waiter
from a restaurant next door knifed two men to death and tried to slaughter
more. V’ein ish som al leiv. Nobody knows about it. Nobody is broken up about
it.

An 18-year-old boy studying in a yeshiva in Beit Shemesh went to
bring meals to soldiers and was shot dead by an Arab terrorist, another young
life snuffed out, a young man with so much potential cut down.

The tears should be flowing, the sadness and pain engulfing us,
yet, somehow, we’ve become immune, the flow of tragedies becoming news stories
rather than personal messages. They become things to pass around without
seriously contemplating the deep personal tragedies.

The Torah states that when Moshe Rabbeinu, who had grown up in the
palace of Paroh, left and saw the suffering of his brothers in Mitzrayim, “Vayar
besivlosam – And he saw their pain.” The Chiddushei Horim adds a component to
what Moshe saw. He writes that “sivlosam” hints to the idea that his brethren
had begun to be “soveil” what was transpiring. They were tolerant of the sad
reality and accepted it as a fact of life.

When Moshe saw that, he perceived that they were in real trouble
and that it was time to begin agitating for their release. They had begun to
accept the culture and atmosphere of being enslaved in Mitzrayim.

We see what’s happening today and we wonder if, perhaps, G-d
forbid, we have started to be soveil this new reality. We glimpse at the
articles, peek at the pictures if they are not too gory, shake our heads and
move on. Instead of mourning the loss of yet another young life, we send around
emails wondering why President Obama was waiting to condemn the senseless
murder of an American citizen in Israel, as if we need his condemnation to
validate the truth. What difference does it make if his staff writes up a pithy
sentence? Will that change anything? The emails we should be sending around and
the thoughts we should be thinking should be focused on what we can be doing
about the slaughter of our people that is going on and how it obligates us.
People felt better when the Patriots held a moment of silence in memory of Ezra
Schwartz Hy”d before Monday night’s game, as if that somehow gave validation to
Jewish pain and suffering and as if that’s what was needed. Jews proudly
emailed clips of the moment of silence

A couple was killed on Erev Rosh Hashanah and their deaths
resonated, tearing hearts across the Jewish world. People spoke about it
everywhere and cared. Then the terror spread to Yerushalayim and the message
began hitting home. But then the violence continued. And continued. Over time
as these despicable acts continued, with every day bringing a new tragedy -
more orphans, more parents sitting shivah, and more blood on the streets - we
have become so overwhelmed that we no longer react.

It doesn’t help that the free world, which never cared much about
Jewish blood in the first place, has now become preoccupied with the ISIS
terror unleashed in Europe and ignores what is happening in Israel. Our hearts
go out to the French people and victims of terror worldwide. We bemoan the
leadership that allowed ISIS to be born and develop into a major threat over
the past seven years. We wish that the world would recognize the threat
engulfing it and declare war upon the evildoers, without politically correct
reservations.

But that doesn’t absolve us from focusing on the real issue and the
weighty implications for us. As bnei Avrohom, Yitzchok and Yaakov, we have to
recognize that Jews in particular are being singled out for slaughter. We must
feel their pain and think about what we can do to help alleviate the suffering.
Each one of us is charged with doing our part to bring this tragic chapter to a
close.

What, exactly, is our part?

Parshas Vayishlach represents a guidebook on relations with the
world. Chazal state that chachomim who traveled to Rome would carefully study
this week’s parshah before setting out on their missions. As our chachomim
throughout the ages studied this parshah and Yaakov’s behavior before
confronting the exile, we must do the same.

The Ramban writes that the parshah “contains a hint for future
generations, for all that transpired between our forefather Yaakov and Eisov
will happen to us with Eisov’s children, and it is fitting for us to follow the
path of the tzaddik (Yaakov).”

Throughout the generations, the children of Eisov sometimes present
themselves as achim, brothers, concerned about our welfare, and other times
their evil intentions are more apparent.

No matter how they present themselves, our response to Eisov
remains constant. We deal with Eisov the same way Yaakov did, so it is
important for us to properly analyze Yaakov’s actions and statements.

The posuk says, “Vayishlach Yaakov malochim lefonov el Eisov ochiv”
(Bereishis 31:4). Yaakov sent malochim to his brother, Eisov, to let him know
that he was returning to the Land of Israel, seeking a peaceful brotherly
reunion.

What was the message Yaakov sent to his wicked brother to convince
him to retreat from his threats to inflict bodily harm on Yaakov? He told the malochim
to tell Eisov, “Im Lavan garti, although I lived many years with the wicked
Lavan, taryag mitzvos shomarti, I observed all the 613 mitzvos.”

The parshah and the dealings between the brothers have historical
significance. They are written in the Torah for us to learn from as we navigate
our golus experience. There are several issues that bear explanation in order
to understand the message Yaakov sent Eisov. Yaakov chose to send malochim,
actual angels, rather than human messengers. Why? And since when does man have
the ability to send angels on missions with messages? Secondly, why would the
wicked Eisov care that Yaakov was able to maintain his lofty levels while
living by Lavan? Of what interest was it to him that Yaakov had observed the
613 commandments?

Chazal teach that the performance of mitzvos creates malochim.
Every mitzvah creates a malach. The Vilna Gaon taught that since every word of
Torah studied fulfills a mitzvah, it follows that every word of Torah we study
creates a malach. Who are those malochim? What is their task? Those malochim
surround us and protect us from harm.

Yaakov was telling Eisov, “You won’t just be fighting me and my
family. If you go to battle against us, you will be fighting the malochim
created by the 613 mitzvos I fulfilled even in the house of Lavan. Lest you
think that I fell under his influence and created malochim mashchisim
(destructive angels), be forewarned that I am the same Yaakov ish tom you knew
back home. Im Lavan garti, vetaryag mitzvos shomarti. There will be thousands
of malochim defending me as I enter your turf. Beware.

There is a story told of a religious traveler who, during a trip,
entered a convenience store, where a bare-headed clerk rang up his purchase of
some chips and a soda. Thanks to his accent, the customer identified the clerk
as an Israeli. He smiled and said to him, “Shalom aleichem.”

The clerk, though an Israeli, had little interest in his heritage.
In fact, he had come to America to escape from Jews. He was quite upset to have
been outed by a co-religionist and responded by saying, “Don’t greet me and
don’t share this shalom aleichem stuff with me. It’s wrong.”

“Why is it wrong?” asked the surprised traveler.

“Because ‘aleichem’ is plural and I am only one person,” said the
man.

The customer smiled and nodded. “You are right, but I am not only
extending my greetings to you. The rabbis teach that every Jew is surrounded by
two malochim at all times. Thus, I use the plural when I greet the three of
you.”

The conversation over, the clerk frowned and turned to the next
customer.

A few months later, the traveler passed through the same town again
and decided to stop at the store. Maybe he’d meet that Israeli again and maybe
he would be able to reach his heart. He entered and saw the clerk there,
sporting a baseball cap.

The clerk’s eyes shot open when the frum man entered. “You’re back?
You have no idea of the trouble you caused me and what you did to my life.”

The traveler prodded him to explain.

“I can’t get out of my head what you told me about the angels,” the
clerk said. “I left work and went to eat supper at McDonald’s like I usually
do, but I couldn’t eat. I sat there and thought about those angels. How could I
eat a cheeseburger with angels at my side? How could I offend them that way?

“Ten times a day, I get annoyed by those angels. In short,” the
clerk concluded, “you’re ruining my life with those angels. They don’t let me
do anything!”

Yaakov had many more malochim at his side, and if Eisov wouldn’t
respect Yaakov, his life would be upended.

There is no protection stronger than that of Torah. Those who study
Daf Yomi recently learned the Gemara (Sotah 21a) which teaches, Torah and
mitzvos are magna umatzla,” Torah and mitzvos protect a person. Torah study and
mitzvah observance create a fortress, an impenetrable protective wall. At the yeshiva
of Sheim V’Eiver, Yaakov merited learning Torah without hesech hada’as, and in
the house of Lavan, he learned Torah “b’af,” through suffering and challenge.
He rose above the distractions and oppression, creating malochim the entire
time. Try as he may, Eisov would not be able to escape that fact.

“Im Lavan garti vetaryag
mitzvos shomarti. Know this, my brother, Eisov: I continued learning and
performing mitzvos even under Lavan, so you will not be able to defeat me.”

A talmid of Rav Elazar Menachem Man Shach once noticed an old
yellowed notebook on a high shelf in the rosh yeshiva’s room, hidden away, out
of sight. The talmid lifted it and presented it to Rav Shach. “The rosh yeshiva
is probably looking for this notebook,” he said. “I found it in a strange
place.”

“No, thank you,” Rav Shach told him. “Please return it there. I
wrote those chiddushim many years ago, but I am no longer confident that they
are completely emes.”

“Then why keep the booklet at all?” asked the talmid.

“Because I was very sick when I wrote those chiddushim and it has
special chein to me. I recall the sweetness of Torah shelomadeti b’af, consisting
of Torah learned through times of challenge. I want to keep it nearby.”

The Chofetz Chaim participated in the construction of a hospital in
Radin. At a meeting of sponsors, wealthy philanthropists each announced how many
beds they would sponsor. They turned to the Chofetz Chaim and asked how many
beds he would sponsor.

“Fifty,” he said.

“Oh, wow,” the board members said, impressed.

The Chofetz Chaim explained that the Torah studied by the bochurim
in his yeshiva protects the town and prevents illness and suffering. In their zechus,
the town would require fifty fewer hospital beds.

Torah saves lives. Malochim created by observance of mitzvos and limud
haTorah stave off punishment, creating a security fence that saves lives and
prevents pain and suffering.

So what can we do? We can create malochim. We can sponsor hospital
beds. We can respond to each horrific report by making a real difference, by
forming a legion of malochim mamash of our own.

Every time we learn, every time we do a mitzvah, every time we daven,
we have to do so with an awareness that we have the ability to impact the
balance of power in this world.

We have to care. We have to feel the pain. We have to know that we
are all brothers and sisters, despite differences of language, country and
custom.

Last week, two men were killed as they davened Minchah. We are not
prophets and cannot discern the ways of Hashem, but when things happen, we know
that there are lessons there for us. Let us examine the tefillah of Minchah.

Avrohom was the av hamon goyim. He was the first to call out in
Hashem’s name. This is signified by Shacharis, the prayer said at the beginning
of the day. He introduced the idea of sanctifying the day by starting the
morning with tefillah.

Yaakov was the first of the avos to go into extended golus. Yaakov
also had the most difficult life of the three avos. From the womb until his
passing, he was beset by trouble. The tefillah he instituted is recited in the
dark and signifies that even in times of darkness, a Jew never gives up. He
maintains his faith and can exude holiness. It also signifies that a Jew can
bring holiness into the darkness of exile.

Yitzchok instituted the tefillah of Minchah, which is recited in
the middle of the workday. Minchah signifies that a Jew can make the mundane
holy. By breaking off in the middle of work to daven, a Jew demonstrates that
his priorities are in order. He knows that success in business comes not from
his own skill, but from Above. He also demonstrates that he can raise his level
of kedushah even while engaging in regular workday activities.

The Gemara (Brachos 24) derives that Yitzchok instituted the tefillah
of Minchah from the posuk in last week’s parshah which states, “Vayeitzei
Yitzchok losuach basodeh lifnos orev.” The Gemara translates this to mean that
Yitzchok went out to daven in the field towards evening.

Tosafos asks how Yitzchok was permitted to daven in the field,
since the halachah is that one should not daven in an open field, where it is
difficult to concentrate. Tosafos answers that the place where Yitzchok was davening
was not really a field. It was Har Hamoriah. The Gemara in Maseches Pesachim
(84) states that Avrohom referred to that hallowed place as a “har,” a
mountain. Yitzchok referred to it as a “sodeh,” a field, and Yaakov called it a
“bayis,” a home.

Apparently, in keeping with the avodah of Yitzchok Avinu, the posuk
purposely referred to the place where he initiated the avodah of tefillas Minchah
as a sodeh. Yitzchok Avinu’s chiddush was that tefillah is indeed possible even
as a Jew is deeply immersed in trying to earn parnassah. He can - and must -
take a break from his consuming business affairs and turn to Hashem. To hint
this to us, the posuk from which we derive the obligation of davening Minchah
refers to Har Hamoriah as a sodeh.

Despite what we are doing throughout the day, we pause in the
middle of it and daven. We show that we understand our purpose in life and that
we can raise ourselves to the level of tefillah even in a sodeh, not only when
we are wrapped in tallis and tefillin, but also when we are in our work
clothes. We have a higher purpose than Eisov and live on a higher plane.

If Jews are killed during Minchah, perhaps it signifies that we
must work harder to maintain our levels of kedushah in a tumultuous world full
of temptation and licentiousness.

Let us work on ourselves to raise our levels of mitzvah observance,
Torah study and arvus. Doing so will help us elevate ourselves from the sodeh
to Har Hamoriah and wipe away the pain from all who are suffering.